


the thing about drowning

by clxude



Series: gay drinking [7]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate universe - Mafia, Blood, F/F, F/M, M/M, Nonbinary yurio, Russian Mafia, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:58:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9714356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clxude/pseuds/clxude
Summary: “Why don’t you say anything to him?” Yuri asks. Otabek is watching from the corner of the room, like always. His presence is dark, but he seems softer around Yuri for some reason, these days. Victor’s learned to not ask questions.Victor hesitates at first, but the liquor is starting to kick in, making it easier for him to say, “I don’t want to hurt him. Because of what we do, I’m afraid that I would end up breaking his heart.”“That’s stupid,” Yuri responds. They down the rest of their drink before sliding off of their chair. They nod at Otabek, and the bodyguard stands beside them.“Why?”“He already broke your heart, Vitya.”





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> victuuri week day 8 - valentine's day  
> edited by rosywiki  
> long fic for my gay drinking series  
> next chapter should be up soon!!!

The party is going well, or, as well as it can with the recent police attention. Yakov and Lilia are keeping a steady hand on the family, but worry is still clear in their eyes, and the gun tucked in Yakov's suit jacket seems to weigh heavier. Yuuri’s learned to not question the extra security lining the room; Victor likes to tell him that’s why he’s kept his head between breathless kisses.

 

Yuuri stands behind the bar, taking it all in. The shadows are heavy in this corner of the grand ballroom of the Nikiforov estate, and the only light source is the white LED covered bar. Behind him, the rows of liquor and champagne are lit by more - although dimmer - lights. 

 

His eyes scan the crowd - and there’s Victor, standing beside Yakov and Lilia. Victor waves, and Yuuri jerks back. He knows what his job is for the family - tend bar, keep his head down, keep Chris away from the vodka at birthday parties - and he knows what happens when Lilia and Yakov find out people are fooling around with their favorites. Otabek Altin’s hands still bear the scars, after all.

 

“Having fun, Yuuri?” Chris asks, draping himself across the bar. Yuuri darts out of reach of his hands. “It feels like it’s been ages since I saw you.”

 

“It’s work,” he says, turning his back to reach a scotch glass for when Chris inevitably decides to order.

 

“Hmm.” Chris props his head on his palm. “That doesn’t mean it can’t be fun. It’s Valentine’s day, after all.”

 

“It’s not supposed to be - “

 

“You know,” Chris draws. Yuuri looks at him, eyebrows scrunching up. “Victor and I are very good friends. A few people have even asked if we’re lovers. That being said - “

 

“Do you want something to drink, Chris?” Yuuri asks, deadly quiet, stopping him. He sets the glass down before he drops it. It clinks against the bar top, barely loud enough to be heard over the roar of the party. 

 

“Of course, I’ll have my usual.” There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes; Yuuri doesn’t trust it. 

 

Yuuri mixes the White Russian as quickly as he can, messily mixing cream with the Kahlúa and vodka.

 

“Worried, Yuuri?”

 

He scoffs, handing over the glass. “Of course not, Chris. Why would I be?”

 

“Because you saw what happened to Yuri Plisetsky’s bodyguard,” Chris replies, smirking around his drink. “Do you think you could handle Yakov’s wrath, if you were to get too close?”

 

“What are you saying, Chris?” He swallows, forcing himself to look at Chris and not Victor, thirty feet away.

 

“Victor and I are close. He tells me everything, you know.” Chris finishes his drink. “I may like you, Yuuri, but he’ll always come first. You know the rest of the family would side with him. Even if you’re his  _ pet  _ right now, you should be careful. You’re playing with glass, after all.”

 

He pushes away from the bar, straightens his tuxedo jacket. “Boys like him shatter so easily, after all.” He smiles before waving. “Bye, Yuuri.”

 

He’s in a haze for the rest of the evening. More than once, he finds himself staring at Victor. Chris always notices and winks, before tightening his arm around the waist of a brunette man.

 

Yuuri serves more drinks, puts up with drunk men and giggly women. Most people don’t come to the bar, when the catering company has people walking through the throngs of guests with trays of red and white wine.

 

It’s a little past midnight when Victor finally comes to the bar, flushed and not quite tipsy.

 

“I didn’t know you were here, Yuuri,” Victor jokes. Yuuri doesn’t move when Victor’s finger tips brush against his wrist. “What are the chances that I would stumble upon someone as handsome as you all alone here?”

 

“Shut up,” Yuuri mumbles, stretching to see past Victor to make sure no one’s watching. “I’m busy.”

 

“There’s no one else here, Yuuri.”

 

_ “Victor,”  _ he hisses, “not here.”

 

“Why not - ?”

 

“Because - “

 

There’s the sound of glass shattering, stopping Yuuri dead in his tracks. It’s not the first time someone has dropped a champagne flute tonight, and it certainly won’t be the last, but before the glass goes quiet, there’s a scream, piercing the air. And then, there is another scream, and another -

 

“Get down” Victor says, skin pale. He pushes Yuuri away from the edge of the bar and down, before reaching into his tux jacket to get his handgun out of the holster. “Stay there.”

 

Yuuri tries to stand. “Victor - “

 

“Yuuri - “ The fear is clear in his eyes. “Don’t argue with me, not this time.”

 

“Victor!” Yakov yells over the crowd. Victor visibly flinches. “Get your ass over here!”

 

“I’ll be back soon.”

 

He doesn’t know how long passes - his breathing slows, and time passes by in shattered window panes and distant gun shots. There’s just him, the ice tub at his back, the crates of clean glasses in front of him. The room sounds empty - he trusts Mila to have gotten everyone out, along with Georgi’s help.

 

He should have expected this, should have counted on it, really. Yuko told him so time and time again. The gun she bought him is tucked in his waistband, heated against his skin. He doesn’t want to use it. He doesn’t even want to think about it, but - he flinches when another gunshot goes off, closer this time, and smacks his forehead on the top of the bar.

 

A few breathes pass, and he hears one of the doors swing open. He shifts slightly, silently, and eases the gun out of his waistband. He hears the person walking closer and he cocks the gun. 

 

Soon, all he can hear is the pounding of blood in his ears, the race of his heartbeat, the shallow hiss of his breath. He counts steps - they’re loud, right behind him.

 

“I’m sorry, Victor,” he whispers against the barrel of the gun, before shifting into a crouch. Another second passes, another deep breath to calm his shaking hands. He has one chance, and if he fucks it up - well, there’s no point in thinking about that now.

 

_ Three -  _

 

_ Two -  _

 

_ One -  _

  
And he’s up, finger pulling on the trigger, arms braced for the recoil.


	2. chapter one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> supposed to go up last night but i was too lazy oops

The boardroom is quiet, still, with rainwater streaking down the wall of windows. Victor isn’t alone - there’s a guard five feet behind him, facing the door - but he feels like he is, in the way the airs settles, heavy and oppressive.

 

He adjusts his tie, shifts his briefcase so it’s a bit less crooked. He checks his watch - Yakov should be arriving any moment, along with Lilia, maybe. He smoothes his hair, stills his hands in his lap.

 

There’s no reason to worry, not really. The chance that they’ll say to no to beginning production is low, and even if they do, it doesn’t mean much - Victor has enough sway with the distillery to kickstart it whenever he wishes. Asking for permission from the father is really just a matter of decency and attempting to stay in favor.

 

He stands when the door opens, flips his hair and smiles at Yakov. He folds his hands before him.

 

“Hello, Yakov,” Victor greets, cheerful.

 

Yakov just grits his teeth and walks past him, to the opposite end of the table. Mila comes in as well, walking a few steps behind. She stands behind the father, and smirks at Victor.

 

_ ‘He’s going to say no,’  _ she mouths.

 

Victor’s lips twitch into a smile, but he schools his features before smoothing down his suit jacket and sitting. He flicks open the locks on the leather briefcase with his thumbs, and removes the glass bottle of vodka within, along with three shot glasses.

 

“Will Lilia be joining us?” he asks, straightening the glass.

 

“Later,” Yakov grunts. “She’s with Yura at their suit fitting. She’ll come once they’re done.”

 

Victor smiles. “Let’s begin the meeting, then, Yakov.”

 

It goes well for the most part, until they bring in Chris to see how long it would take for  _ Eros  _ to get someone drunk. He drapes himself over Victor’s lap, long legs hanging over the armrest, downing shot after shot.

 

“Tastes like piss,” Chris mumbles into Victor neck after the fifth shot, once the vodka starts to take its toll. “And, my tongue is numb, Vitya.”

 

“It’s vodka, Chris, what do you expect?” Victor laughs as Yakov watches with on with a vague look of disdain. 

 

“Doesn’t matter, mmm, Vitya - “

 

The door swings open and Lilia swoops in, mustard yellow jacket unzipped and fluttering around her, Georgi behind her. “He’s here?” she asks, eyebrows raised as she sits beside Yakov and crosses her legs. “And drunk.”

 

“We’re testing my vodka on him, Lilia.”

 

“‘I’m sure,” she huffs. “Is it at least working?”

 

Chris pushes himself up in Victor’s lap and leans over his shoulder, staring at Georgi. The driver looks uncomfortable, flushed and jittery. “You wanna come back to my place?”

 

Georgi stutters and drops his leather driving gloves.

 

Victor smirks at the heads of the family. “I’d say so. Do you want it or not?”

 

“You’ll just sell it anyway, Vitya,” Yakov says, gruff. “It doesn’t matter what we say.”

 

“That’s not true,” he smiles. They all know he’s lying, but it doesn’t really matter at this point. He’s worth too much to the family, even if  _ Eros  _ flops. “I would always ask for permission. Your approval means the world to me, Yakov.”

 

“You can do it,” Lilia finally says, “But, you are going to be the one finding bars to carry it, as well as deliver it. Georgi will drive you, but that’s it.”

 

“Perfect.”

 

…

 

“We don’t open until seven,” the bartender says once Victor swings the door open. 

 

The bar is small and dark, a bit rundown, but clean.

 

“I’m here for business, actually. Is the owner in?”

 

“No, she - “ The bartender says, pausing once he looks up. He swallows, before saying, “I can help you, though.”

 

“I’m so glad to hear that.” Victor smiles, tilting his head. “My name is Victor Nikiforov and I represent Nikiforov Liquors. I was wondering if you would be interested in carrying our newest flavor of vodka?”

 

“What’s it called?”

 

_ “Eros.” _ Every second, Victor’s smile grows larger. He places the briefcase on the bar so it’s facing the bartender before unlocking it. The dark blue bottles gleam in the overhead lighting. “It’s eighty dollars a bottle.”

 

“Oh,” he whispers, and a few moments later, “You in the mafia or something?”

 

Victor’s smile shrinks ever so slightly.

 

Oh.

 

“Why would you think that?” he asks, leaning closer. He hopes he never has to kill the bartender, splatter red blood all over that pretty face.

 

The bartender swallows again, sets the cup down on the bar with shaking hands. His fingers rest on top of the bar, and slowly, they stop shaking ever so slightly.

 

“I don’t know - a Russian guy walks into a bar and wants to sell me overpriced vodka. It kinda gives off that aura.”

 

Victor hums. He leans against the bar and rests his jaw on the palm of his hand. “And what would you say, if you were correct?”

 

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Victor Nikiforov,” he replies, breathlessly.

 

“I’m happy to hear that. When will your boss be in next? There are a few things I’ll need to… discuss with her.”

 

“I don’t know, but I can  - call you? When I find out?”

 

“That would be perfect.”

 

…

 

Okukawa Minako is loud and brash, shoving Victor aside to unlock her office door. Victor smirks at the bartender - Yuuri, he learned from Minako - when she pulls him into the office by his wrist and slams the door shut.

 

“Has your bartender told you anything yet?”

 

“Besides the fact that you’re selling that shit for eighty dollars and will probably kill us if we said no?” She scoffs before flopping into her desk chair. She props her feet up on the desk as Victor takes a seat opposite her. “Yeah, he told me.”

 

“Do you want to carry our product then?”

 

“If you give us a bottle for a test run, maybe. I don’t think our regular customers have the cash to spend on vodka. People want to get drunk, not go home tipsy and broke.”

 

“I’m sure we could come to an agreement on the exact price,” he says, standing. “I’ll be in touch.”

 

Once he’s back by the bar, he nods at Yuuri and waves. He’s walking out the door before Yuuri manages to say anything, but Victor catches the beginning of a blush.

 

“How did it go?” Georgi asks once Victor’s back in the black town car.

 

“Well,” Victor says, watching the door through the tinted windows. “The owner is going to say yes.”

 

“Where to now?”

  
“The next bar. We still need more clients, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can read victuuri meeting from yuuri's pov in the drabble _slip into my veins_ , currently 4th in this series but subject to change

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr - violet-boy & claude-lit


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